


the one with mortals and immortals and even messier things

by orphan_account



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cancer, Fluff and Angst, Foggy is sunshine, M/M, Matt is a god, brief Karen/Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The biggest rule of immortality is to not get involved with mortals but whoops I was in a coffee shop one day and fell in love with you and now I'm freaking out bc in the grand scope of things we don't get a lot of time together but fuck no please don't leave me not yet no.’ au with mattfoggy</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with mortals and immortals and even messier things

**Author's Note:**

> I did this in two hours and I am so tired and there's a lot of grammar mistakes but it's fluff and angst and ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, Matt knew the general rules. One, do not fall in love with mortals. They are fragile and will die long before he does and such sorrow has led greater gods to go insane. Not to mention the facts that mortals and immortals could never see eye to eye on everything. Love, well that would just be arguing. Or at least that’s what Matt told himself when he smelled flowers lingering on girls and heart soft-spoken men.

See Matt had spent a long time on this Earth and even after hundreds of years, he never grew tired of it. Never stopped growing affection for random strangers. Never grew tired of humanity to be exact. These people with their fickle choices and fragileness. He loved it. It was amusing, like watching a war start all because of a pretty girl or seeing a boy pick a fight with an older man simply because too much pride. Humans with their anger and their consequences, in all honesty, was brilliant because even after all these years- they never learned. Never learned that yes, history could repeat itself, and it would. It was inevitable, there were only so many new things that could be done. That everything had it’s time and it would rise again.

As Carl Sandburg had once said so beautifully, “I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons come from me/ and the Lincolns./They die. And then I send forth more Napoleons/and Lincolns.”

Which, okay, is extraordinarily accurate for Matt. Seeing as he is Janus or the god of new beginnings. He was the one to grant these opportunities for people with great potential, it was just how society forged them that granted the outcome. He wasn’t fate, he just gave fate a little push into the right direction. Picked out a handful of the greats and pushed them towards something more than the average. It was he, who made the greats. It was he who gave opportunity, which is why his current cover was a defense lawyer. Giving the innocent the chance to be safe, to be proven innocent.

But even some days it is boring and completely overwhelming, and some days he just  really needed a break. In the twenty first century there is just so many people, it’s hard to filter out the innocent from guilty. There’s less to do and so much more people; a higher population than there has ever been. Which is why, he’s taking a day for himself.

Sitting inside a neat little coffee shop ran by one of his few friends, Claire. Claire, who Matt sometimes was in love with, but in a familiar way. She was one of the few immortal creatures who was comfortable around Matt. Although he couldn’t see her, he knew she was beautiful, all nymphs were. Unlike most nymphs though, she wasn’t envious. She took what came with ease, understanding that some things were meant to be. She also was generally an honest person with good intentions, so if Matt granted her a few more opportunities than the average being, well could they blame him? Not to mention, her coffee was the best in all of Hell’s Kitchen.

And in this hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, in a navy blue couch that he sinks into is where he breaks rule number one.

****  
  


He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t. He’s just sitting there, fingers running over braile. He’s really started to enjoy these simple pleasures: a good read, hot coffee, soft couches. It’s less stressful than slaying over cases that should be impossible. When it happens. Well, maybe it doesn’t happen right then, but it sure as hell starts when somebody walks over. The sound of hair rubbing onto a neck and thrumming heartbeat getting louder, but he doesn’t look up, still having to play the part of a blind man.

“Mind if I sit next to you? Everywhere else is a bit crowded and I really don’t want to stand in the rain and drink coffee.” The voice is so airy that Matt almost wonders if it’s another god for a second.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Matt retorts, a polite smile gracing his features as he scoots over a few inches, allowing the man to sit next to him. When he does sit next to him, Matt thinks he smells like home. Real home. The ocean sea and wheat, but there is also a sweeter scent in there, strawberry maybe? It’s the smell of Roman War, his favorite time- when he was still worshipped, but there was never that peculiar sweetness. It smelled more like iron from blood, but this was sweet fruit. Maybe pomegranates, that’d be fitting.

“It’d be damn sad.” The man barks out with a laugh that is just an all around good sound, “Foggy Nelson.” He holds a hand out before realizing he’s doing a gesture to a blind man. Instead of putting it down embarrassed like most people do he piques, “I’m holding my hand out if you want to shake it.”

“Matthew Murdock, pleasure to meet you.” Matt takes the hand in his and can’t help but feel the difference and be reminded of the softness of humanity. Foggy’s hands have hints of old callouses but the fingers are plush and soft smooth, almost like a woman’s. They’re nice hands, he thinks. They’re hands who have touched lives and who can touch even more.

“You too, buddy.” Matt can tell he smiles, or maybe he’s been smiling the whole time. Maybe that is just what Foggy’s voice sounds like. As if sunshine and smiles and carelessness could be fit into a tony. Slowly, Foggy releases Matt’s hand and turns to the muffin he’d been balancing on his knee. “Come here often?” He asks, mouth stuffed with chocolate chip pastry.

“When I can get away from work. My good friend owns the place.” Matt’s surprised by the genuineness of his answer. Usually he forces manners when he isn’t at work, but right now it seems to come so naturally. Maybe he has been among humans too long.

“No way! Do you get like, get discounts or anything?”

“If she did then she’d be out of business.”

Foggy barks out another laugh and somehow Matt finds himself laughing along, and all Matt can think to himself is that this is wrong. All he can this is this wrong, but he doesn’t think he’ll stop it. He should stop it, but the conversation keeps rolling until Foggy’s phone rings and he has to dash because he lost track of time.

****  
  


“Whoa, dude, didn’t think I’d see you here again!” It’s Foggy again. Matt can’t help the satisfied feeling bubbling in the pit of stomach at being remembered.

“Foggy. Good to see you as well.”  Matt taps his glasses just for a fun effect, snickering on the inside when he hears the rush of blood to Foggy’s cheeks, can sense the slight raise of warmth.

“Shit, forgot the whole ‘not seeing’ thing.”

“Me too. How’re you?”

“Lot better now that you’re here and this time I’ve got an hour. What about you? Are you free?” Flirting, Matt registers, Foggy is flirting with him. He kinda likes it. The flirting, coming from Foggy, makes his heart swell up with joy.

Matt should not agree to this, should say he’s busy. Matt should go talk to Claire because he’s only met this man one time and already he is having butterflies flapping in his gut.

Matt does not do either of those things.

They sit on the same couch, a little bit closer, and Matt can hear Foggy’s heart thrumming in his chest and he feels it too. Not as an echo but in his own chest. It’s as if his heart is going at it, but they both settle down soon enough in comfort. Foggy leans over to him at one point to get something off his cheek, and their hearts are jackrabbits going 100 miles per hours. Even when he goes back to his regular sitting position, they’re closer. Thighs touching. Neither move. Foggy stays longer than an hour, and Matt is well aware of Foggy ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket just so he can stay with Matt.

“Matt?” Foggy asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be crazy if I kissed you?” His voice has gone incredibly intimate, hushed and a little less sunny than before. It makes Matt nervous, makes him gulp down air, trying to think of an excuse- any excuse.

“I think it’d kill me.” He replies just as quiet, Matt’s eyelashes fluttering beneath crimson glasses as he hears Foggy’s breath hitch.

He doesn’t even know what Foggy really looks like, he doesn’t know what himself looks like, but he imagines in this moment they look a piece of art. Foggy with his pupils dilated, probably looking at Matt like he puts the sun in the sky. Matt looking down nervously, trying not to kiss Foggy.

Matt avoids the coffee shop for three weeks. He takes work off because he can do that. He goes home. He goes to the seaside and just breathes it in. Mortals, they’re so fragile, but what about gods? Mortals fall in love so easily because they have a short life span, it leads to a larger percent for them. For Matt though? What is one three and a half hours to a god? Barely a second, but in that damn second he has done it. He has become so stupid and fallen in love with a boy who is childhood memories and makes the shore feel lonely. Matt tries to stomp it down and finds one of his old lovers, Karen. She knows something is wrong and lets him use her in this time; they meld together, but Matt never feels as if they’re one. Feels as if there is something blocking them.

Matt goes back to the coffee shop, still unsure what to do. He gained some courage though, and lucky him- Foggy is there. Except, he’s different. His body sags a bit more, his hair a little too long, his body a little too salty. He entertains the thought that it might be because of him, but Matt isn’t worth that, couldn’t do that damage. Except, when Foggy spots him, it is like the sun comes to life because he is walking over and engulfed Matt in a hug.

“I was worried you died or something, Matt. Where’d you go?” He says into the crook of Matt’s neck, causing goosebumps to come to life.

“I had to go home for a while. I’m sorry if I worried you. I’ll tell you before I go next time.” Matt feels like he has done this awful thing. As if he has put a criminal back onto the street or hurt everyone he cares about.

“You better. I gotta go, wanna meet tomorrow?” Foggy asks, unhooking himself and looking down at his watch. He’s already on his way out, too busy to nice the look on Matt’s face.

“Sure.”

****  
  


“Sorry if I’m blunt and being rude and this is totally the last time, but Matt, do you like me? Like, like like? I mean I’m cool with being friends, but I just want to make sure I’m not missing my window and y’know regret it in two years.” Foggy rambles and Matt finds himself smiling, something that Foggy makes him do more often than not. It’s almost endearing. “What are you smiling at, Grumps?”

“You said ‘like like.’”

“Well, do you?”

“I do.” Matt feels Foggy’s eyes digging into him, there is no turning back on this. He chose this. He chose this, he thinks, and right now there is nothing he’d had rather said.

“Would it really kill you if we kissed?” Foggy is leaning into him on their couch, he’s not being slimy or greasy. He’s gentle and his hand is resting against Matt’s cheek and the consent is touching, and Matt can’t help it. He leans forward just an inch, closing their mouths on each other and it’s different and new. Foggys mouth is chapped and soft and real. With every second that passes, the better it gets.

“I guess we’ll see.” Matt pants out because even if it was a pretty tame kiss, it had this electricity. The kind they describe in cheesy romance novels.

They date, it’s cute, Claire says she knew they’d bang. They go on lots of nice dates, and Matt even meets the Nelson brew. They do couple-y things like go out to brunch and Foggy makes them take selfies all the time. They even decided to open a firm together, and it’s going beautiful when Matt proposes.

Foggy says yes.

Foggy also gets sick after two weeks. It’s small stuff, the scent of cancer, but it’s so light that Matt thinks it must be nothing. That it isn’t Foggy, that the scent must’ve rubbed off on him. Except, his Foggy isn’t smelling like home these days. He’s smelling like decay and rot and it’s poisoning Matt’s senses, but he stays because it’s worst for Foggy. Then come in the hand tremors. They’re so small that when Matt comments on them Foggy shrugs it off.

Matt nearly has to beg Foggy to go to the doctor, and Foggy says it’s fine but if Matt really insists then he well. And so he does, and Matt has never felt worse in his life then when they get the results come back. It feels as if his stomach has dropped, as if his throat has closed in. Matt grips onto Foggy’s hand so tight that he’s sure he’s cutting off blood flow.

He tries to give him chances but fate doesn’t agree, and Matt spends the nights with terrible thoughts in his head as he lays next to his fiancee in their bed. Foggy is too late for the chemo to be of any real help, so he doesn’t do it. He says he wants to die with his luxurious locks. Matt doesn’t point out that that’s not funny. That anything related to his illness isn’t funny. That Foggy dying isn’t funny. This isn’t funny, Foggy, he wants to scream out. Matt chose this though, Foggy didn’t, so he keeps his words in his stomach.

The wedding isn’t the one they wanted. It’s not even a real wedding, just a certificate and flower crowns made by Foggy. These days, Foggy can’t do too much movement. It hurts too much, makes Foggy cough up substances that shouldn’t be coughed up. Matt says his vows in a hushed whisper into Foggy’s ear, stroking the hair that has lost all of it’s lush.

“Just stay with me, okay? You can’t leave me just yet. Not yet, Foggy.”

“Just for you, Matty, but only because you’re cute.”

Matt kissed his head and Foggy laughed and for a second it sounded like sunshine and airy, but it was interrupted by rough coughing and fluids rising.

“I like when you kiss me, Matt. It’s my favorite thing in the world, you know. It’s so so nice. God, do you remember our first one? I asked you if it would really kill you. I’m happy it didn’t. I’m happy I don’t have to see you wither because you- you’re so beautiful. I don’t think I could take it.”

  
Foggy dies. It’s not beautiful; it’s tragedy. Matt feels like he has died too and nothing could have prepared him for this. Matt feels too much and not enough. Everyone sends their condolences, but how could they understand? He will live on. Not ever able to see his husband again. He wishes he had a second chance, wished he could have a redo button. Spend their time more wisely together because even though it hurt, it was worth it.


End file.
